


The Sun Comes Up

by caswell



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gender Non-Conforming Michael Mell, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Michael Mell, boyf riends is like... an Unrequited Thing in this and stage dorks is canon, but ships aren't the main focus go read my other stuff if u want boyfs, in the first chapter. the rest is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: Little by little, inch by inch, Michael breaks out of his shell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! thanks for clicking on this even though it's not ship fic, I know these sorts of things don't usually get much attention but tbh... i wanted to write about Michael making friends because he's a Good Boy and he deserves Lots Of Friends.  
> I'll upload chapters every like. Three days? sure.  
> Enjoy!!
> 
> Emetophobia warning for the first two paragraphs!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael befriends a dog, kinda.

The sick-sweet smell of Clorox brand liquid cleaner hits Michael as he retches for the second time into Jake Dillinger’s downstairs toilet, gripping the sides of the porcelain seat for dear life. He’s not sure how to describe the giant mess of emotions he’s feeling other than… “Stupid,” he hisses at himself, and reaches up to flush the toilet. Here he is, in this stupid fucking bathroom, in this stupid fucking sweater, having all these stupid fucking feelings about his stupid fucking best friend-  _ ex  _ best friend, ex ex ex- fuck. Stupid. 

_ Wikihow to not look like you were just crying,  _ Michael types with shaky fingers on his phone, then sighs and closes the browser app.  _ Fuck it.  _ He slams the toilet's lid down- what else is there to do? Be quiet?  _ Fuck  _ being quiet- and stands up, hoping his stomach has calmed down. He doesn’t usually puke when he has panic attacks, but desperate times call for desperate gastrointestinal measures. ...Anyway. The metal of the door handle is cold, freezing, absolute zero against his sweaty palms; he stays there for a long moment before turning it.  _ It’s just a panic attack,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ Don’t be a pussy.  _ He pushes through.

Outside the bathroom, the party is as overstimulating as ever, 80s music echoing through the halls as the bass thuds in his chest. Michael makes his way through the crowd, careful not to knock any beers out of people’s hands or to bump into any pairs of lip-locked teens, and finally gets to the foyer. He glances to his left and… there he is. Jeremy Heere himself.

He’s seated on the couch next to some… some weird monster-looking thing- kudos to whoever made that behemoth- and he’s still clad in his stupid shitty cyborg costume. “Can’t believe the SQUIP actually let him wear that,” he mutters. And on the other side of the monster… ah, of course. Christine. Now, Michael has no ill will against Christine, he thinks she’s a really sweet girl and she has his blessing with pretty much any guy in school, but seeing her now makes his heart drop like a depressed man from the Empire State Building. It would be really fucking stellar if Jeremy knew how to  _ not  _ shaft someone for his crush, because the three of them, Michael thinks, could really get to be great friends, but oh well. Some things just aren’t meant to be. Onwards.

The cold night air fills Michael’s lungs as he steps forward onto the Dillinger’s porch- and almost trips over something black and white and spotted all over. He lets out a decidedly un-manly squeak before righting himself, standing ramrod straight for a second, then allowing himself to relax. Michael looks down at whatever’s lying there on the porch and stares straight into Brooke Lohst’s tearful eyes. “Michael… It’s Michael, right?” she slurs, not out of drunkenness but out of distress. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask myself the same thing,” Michael says, and shrugs as Brooke cocks her head in confusion. “I dunno. Found out about it, thought I’d invite myself.” He stands there for an awkward moment, hands in his pockets and eyes toward the middle distance, then sighs and sits down next to Brooke. When she doesn’t make a move to leave, he asks, “...Why’re you out here? Shouldn’t you be inside partying?”

Brooke sniffles. “Yeah, I  _ should  _ be,” she says bitterly, and picks at the wood with one lacquered nail. “It’s just… And I don’t know why I’m telling you this… it’s Jeremy.” She stutters over his name, and Michael knows, God, does he ever know, because his heart’s been tripping on it this whole night. “I don’t mean to talk shit about him to you, like, I know you’re best friends and all…”

Michael snorts at that. “No need to worry about it. ...What’d he do now?”

Brooke is silent for a moment, trying to collect herself; these next words are always the hardest to say. “He, um. He went upstairs with Chloe, and I found them- well. He was there, and Chloe was on the bed, and he didn’t have a shirt on, so, y’know. I could connect the…” She looks down at her costume. “Dots.”

“...Oh,” is all Michael can think to say. “Oh.” What’s he even supposed to tell her? That Jeremy doesn’t like her  _ or  _ Chloe and just wants to fuck up the whole ladder until he can get to Christine? That’d probably make things worse. At least if you cheat on someone you probably loved them at some point. “I’m, uh. I’m sorry about that.”

Brooke shrugs, clearly forcing herself to stay calm; Michael’s heart goes out to her. “It’s alright. It’s not the first time something like that has happened to me. I’ll be over it soon.” She worries her lips, then looks up at Michael. “What about you?”

“Wha- oh. Oh, me?” Michael says, and does his best to laugh it off. “I uh, I wasn’t crying. I just got something in my eye.”

Flatly, Brooke says, “You can’t lie to me that easily, Michael. Why else would you be out here?”

“...Fair enough.” Michael looks up at the stars- cold, uncaring, but at least they’re always there. Even on cloudy nights, you can rest assured that they’re behind the grey, ever-present, never breaking away or running off. He’s silent for a long while. “It’s Jeremy for me, too.”

Brooke raises her eyebrows. “He’s just been running around breaking hearts tonight, hasn’t he?”

Michael can’t help but smile, though it’s certainly not a happy one. “Yeah, he really has.” He licks his lips and tries to find the right words to convey exactly what he’s feeling. ...He gives up, after a while. “Y’know, you try to tell someone you’re worried about them, and uh, next thing you know you’re crying over him in the bathroom because he called you a loser. ...I know I  _ am  _ a loser, but that’s not the point.”

Brooke chuckles, but doesn’t contest the statement. “Well, I never thought I’d have anything in common with you, but I guess we’ve got this.” She picks at the faux fur on her skirt, pulling off bits of black and white, then says, “Let’s get out of here. I think the Starbucks might still be open.”

Michael hesitantly pats Brooke’s back- it hits him, suddenly, how bizarre this situation is- and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I think we should probably leave.”

For the first time since they’ve been out there, spilling their guts on Jake Dillinger’s porch, Brooke gives Michael a genuine smile. “C’mon,” she says, “I’ll pay.”

And they’re off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by tumblr user michaelmakesanentrance's posts about Michael and Brooke! Ty Micha!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael forms a pact with the devil and goes to Middle Borough's GSA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy only has like. One line in this fic, and it's in this chapter, but I thought I should tag him anyway? Sorry Jeremy stans ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Michael stares blankly at the wooden door, hands wrapped tight around the straps of his backpack. It’s not a big deal! It really isn’t. It’s… not like he’s in the closet or anything, hell, he’s got a pride flag patch on his favorite hoodie, but actually going to his school’s GSA feels like forming a pact with the devil. What if he doesn’t like it? Will he be expected to show up next week anyway? Is it too late in the school year to join? What if someone he hates is there? What if everyone’s, like, really transphobic or something? He looks down at his phone, open to his inbox.

_ [3:02 PM] Jeremy H.: you got this duder!! it’s gonna be fine. @ least go for the soda n snax or i’ll go for u and that’s a promise _

_ [2:45 PM] Brooke L.: i think you should do it! i still haven’t gone but it can’t be that bad. nobody expects you to be cool at a gsa meeting. _

The idea was met with unanimous support by his… two… friends. Still, Michael finds himself hesitating. It was his third year at Middle Borough High, but he still hadn’t ever joined a sport or went to a club meeting or anything. He didn’t even sign up for the play with Jeremy. What was he supposed to expect? Do people hold hands and sing kumbaya for an hour after school? Do they get in heated debates and start throwing punches? Do they just… sit around and eat snack food?  _ You’ll never know if you don’t try,  _ Michael reminds himself, and takes a deep breath. As he sighs it out, he reaches for the handle and opens the door.

It’s really less intimidating than he thought it might be. Things usually are. It’s a simple classroom- actually, it’s right across from his English room this semester- and there’s not even that many people there. Surrounded by a few bottles of soda and and a bag of chips, Michael vaguely recognizes the girl in his math class who’s always wearing flannels, a couple of identical twins he’s seen around a couple times and who he  _ thinks _ are seniors, a freshman who’s pulled off a perfectly androgynous look, and… “Jake?”

Jake Dillinger, who’d been chatting with one of the maybe-senior twins, looks up and blinks in surprise, then smiles. “Oh, hey! You’re Jeremy’s friend, uh, Michael Mann?”

“It’s Mell,” Michael says, and sticks his hands in his pockets, retreating into himself. “I had no idea you were in this club.”

“You kidding?” Jake says, and laughs that stupid cool guy laugh. “I’m the president! I’m surprised you didn’t hear, man, I mean, you’re certainly…” He gestures to the pride flag patch on Michael’s hoodie. “One of us.”

Michael makes a move to cover up the patch with his hand before realizing that this is probably the most gay-friendly place he’s ever been. Instead, he stuffs his hands back in his pockets. “Well… I guess we just don’t run in the same circles.”

Jake shrugs. “Point taken. We were just talking about homophobia in Boy Scouts, cuz, y’know, I was really into that stuff. I’m an Eagle Scout, actually. So.”

“Uh-huh.” Michael had been in Boy Scouts for six months. It kept him in the closet for another five years.

Jake is quiet for a second, clearly not knowing how to respond to Michael's asociality. “Uh… anyway, you wanna sit down? Grab a Coke or something?”

“I prefer Pepsi,” Michael mumbles, but takes a can and sits down at a desk next to Jake. He keeps his eye dutifully trained on the clock, watching the minutes tick away until 4:15 as Jake and the others talk about a variety of different things. A few quiet remarks here and there, none of his typical giddiness or snark. That’s generally how it is with new situations; he’s been like that all his life. Maybe there’s something wrong with him. There’s probably something wrong with him.

4:15 comes, and the students disperse one by one, saying their goodbyes and flashing peace signs and what have you as they leave. Eventually, it’s just Jake, who’s cleaning up the leftover soda and snacks, and Michael, who’s… still here, though he’s not sure why. Jake is Jeremy’s friend, right? So he should probably make the effort to bond with him, even if that seems impossible, because, well, it’s Jake fucking Dillinger, and even if he  _ is  _ pan, is that really enough to build a friendship off of?

It turns out that he doesn’t have to think about it that hard, though, because Jake turns to him eventually and says, “So, Michael.  _ The  _ Michael. What’s up, dude?”

Well, that’s a lot to unpack in three short sentences. Michael blinks and is silent for a moment, trying to think of an adequate response. All he can think of is, “... _ The  _ Michael?”

“Yeah, dude,” Jake laughs, and, wow, Michael can really see why he’s got his pick of any of the girls- and, apparently, the guys- at school. “Jeremy talks about you all the time. Y’know, Michael this, Michael that. You seem like a pretty cool guy.”

If Michael was still sipping on a Coke, he’d have spat it out all over Jake’s stupid varsity jacket. “C-cool?” he echoes. “Uh, God, well, thanks, I guess.” And there ya have it: he’s anxious for it to go wrong, but when it goes right, well, he’s anxious then, too. It’s a hard knock life. Finally, he remembers that Jake asked a question, and blurts, “Oh! Not much. Just hangin’ out here. I figured I’d come, since, y’know. I’m pretty gay.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jake says simply. “I don’t wanna keep you here long, like, I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do-” He doesn’t- “but I just wanted to get to know you a little better. I mean, you hardly talked today.”

Michael rubs at the back of his phone, safe in his hoodie’s pocket. “Oh, yeah. It’s like that sometimes.”

Jake nods sagely. “It’s like that sometimes,” he agrees. He’s stuffed the soda and snacks into a plastic bag, and he readjusts it in the crook of his arm now so it won’t slip. “Look, I should probably get going too, but I’ll catch you next week, right?” As he walks past Michael, he claps him on the back with his free hand. “We’d love to have ya.”

Surprised- and a little flattered- at the praise from somebody who’s leagues above him in the social ladder, Michael can only say, “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He watches Jake as he walks out the door, letting it fall shut behind them, and waits for a few seconds before whipping out his phone and typing furiously.

_ [4:19] Michael M.: WHY didn’t you guys say jake fckin dillinger was the president of the gsa!!!!???? _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael makes a very powerful friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it matters to anyone, sorry this chapter is kinda short,, also you can pry GNC Michael from my cold dead hands.

Never in his goddamn life did Michael think he'd be shopping in the same store as Chloe Valentine. She probably even went to one of those high-end grocery stores instead of the Target near-ish the school. Despite that, on a particularly chilly day in February, he bumps into her at the mall- almost literally. He’s at Gamestop, reaching for a copy of Fire Emblem: Fates _ ,  _ which had come out about a week prior and which he and Jeremy had been looking forward to since it was unveiled, when a slim hand with beautifully polished fingernails darts forward and snags it off the shelf before he can pick it up. Michael jolts a little in surprise and looks up at the intruder.

“...What?” Chloe asks, eyes narrowed as she looks down at the bent-over Michael. “Am I not allowed to buy video games?”

“I mean- you’re  _ allowed  _ to,” Michael says, and straightens up, “I’m just wondering why you  _ are.”  _ He gestures towards the thin box that’s clutched tightly in Chloe’s hand. “I really didn’t think you’d be much into Fire Emblem, and, I’m gonna be real with ya, I’m  _ sorta  _ bitter that you grabbed the last one when I was gonna buy it for me and Jeremy.”

Chloe blinks, then opens her eyes wide in recognition. “Oh! You’re Jerry’s friend, aren’t you? I thought you looked familiar.”

“Jerry…?” Michael repeats with slight amusement, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, yeah, I actually am. And  _ you’re  _ Chloe Valentine, and, I don’t mean to stereotype, but I feel like that game isn’t for you.”

Offended, Chloe retorts, “It  _ could  _ be! But… you’re right. It’s for my little brother. Y’know, he’s a freshman, brown curly hair, kinda tall…” Michael nods; he’s seen the kid around a couple times. “It’s for his birthday, and he’s, like,  _ obsessed  _ with this series. So.”

_ Well, shit,  _ Michael thinks to himself,  _ she’s officially got a better reason than me to have it.  _ “Alright, I admit defeat,” Michael says, throwing his hands up. “But you’re the one who’s gotta pay 40 bucks for it, so I guess it’s a win-win situation.”

Chloe scowls at the price sticker on the back of the box. “Christ, you’re right,” she grumbles. “Better be worth it.” She starts to walk for the cashier’s counter, but pauses and turns around after a few steps. “...Well?”

A few seconds pass before Michael realizes what Chloe wants. “Oh. Oh!” he says, then rushes to catch up to her.  _ What on God's green earth could she want from me?  _ he wonders, but doesn't protest. He's surprised himself enough these past few months with his new popular friends; one more isn't that out of the ordinary anymore.

Chloe takes a moment at the register, making polite small talk with the cashier-  _ You liar,  _ Michael thinks,  _ you're a stone cold bitch-  _ then grabs the bag and turns back to Michael. “I don't have anything better to do,” she says, “so let's go shopping.” It's not a suggestion- it's a command. She grabs Michael's wrist and walks the startled boy quickly out of the GameStop.

“Where do you like to shop, anyway?” Chloe asks, letting go of his wrist as they step outside. “Something tells me you wouldn't want to go to Forever 21 and shop for dresses with me or anything.”

“Actually, I kinda like to dabble in gender nonconformity,” Michael says, having given up being ashamed of it long ago, and he swears to God, Chloe’s eyes actually light up.

If this were a 90s movie, the next hour would be replaced with a montage of Michael coming out of the changing room at Forever 21 and posing for Chloe in various tops and skirts. Since it’s real life and 2016, though, it’s mostly just Michael and Chloe discussing different pieces of clothing at the racks and Michael trying to convince Chloe that no, he’s not going to go in the changing rooms, he’ll do it back at home, because that shit’s claustrophobic as hell and he always gets distracted and takes half an hour. He doesn't mention the dysphoria. Chloe finally relents, and, after she tries on her own clothes, the two of them head to the register to pay. “So, we're going Dutch, right?” Michael asks, taking out his wallet.

Chloe opens her mouth to say something, but seems to rethink it, blinking as she closes it again. “Y'know what,” she says, “I actually have a gift card that'll cover it.” As Michael watches, genuinely amazed, Chloe rifles through her purse and pulls out a card emblazoned with the Forever 21 logo and hands it to the cashier.

Michael takes his bag and is about to thank Chloe when he turns and realizes she's no longer there. Instead, she's already on her way out of the store. As he watches, she looks back at him, holds up the GameStop bag, and says, “Oh, by the way? That guy isn't even my brother. This is all for me. Ciao!”

“That girl is just chock full of surprises,” Michael mutters, but there's a big, stupid grin on his face nonetheless.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a late-night chat and sci-fi movie marathon with a new friend.

It's a little past midnight on a Saturday- well, a Sunday, now- and Michael's scrolling mindlessly on his phone, opening and closing the same three apps over and over. He gets the occasional text, usually from Jeremy, but there's a few mixed in from Brooke, Jake, and even Chloe. Imagine! Chloe Valentine texting  _ him  _ of all people. He may have (sometimes devastating) abandonment issues, but hey, at least he has three new über-popular friends. He's 15 posts into a Japanese cooking company's Twitter account, watching a tutorial on how to make green tea crepe cake, when he receives a DM.

 

_ sup??? _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:13 _

 

Michael frowns at Jenna's icon- a selfie, of course, from homecoming- and murmurs aloud, “This has got to be a trap.” He's made mistakes in trusting people with secrets before- fuck you, Mark from middle school, he really didn't need everyone to know he had a crush on his Geometry teacher- and Jenna Rolan is, of course, a notorious gossip. He wouldn't be at all surprised if she was just sliding into his DMs to get all buddy-buddy and get some choice deetz on his personal life. Still, with a sigh, he types out a quick response.

 

_ uhhh… nm, just wondering why jenna rolan is in my dms. _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:15 _

 

_ wowwww, well hello to you too, mikey. _

_ i just wanted to chat. _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:16 _

 

Three minutes in and he already hates it. Thanks!

 

_ nobody calls me mikey lmao _

_ gay boy wonder •12:17 _

 

_ jeremy does. _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:17 _

 

_ last time I checked, you're jenna, not jeremy. _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:19 _

 

_ michael, then. _

_ anyway, hiiii _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:20 _

 

_ hi?  _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:22 _

 

_ hey! so brooke told me she's a lesbian did u know????  _

_ like since ur friends and ur gay _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:23 _

 

Yes, Michael did know Brooke's a lesbian. He was, in fact, the first person she came out to, about two weeks after what he's dubbed the Squipcident©®™. Why the hell would Jenna Rolan tell him something she said in confidence, though?

 

_ why the hell would you tell me something brooke said in confidence? _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:26 _

 

_ ): I was trying to bond, silly _

_ I mean a friend of a friend is just a friend ur not friends with yet _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:28 _

 

_ So she's not just digging for hot goss,  _ Michael thinks. He refuses to let his guard down.

 

_ i don't trust like that dot jpeg _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:30 _

 

_ oh don't give me that! i really do just want to be friends!  _

_ u n i aren't so different michael _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:32 _

 

_ what? how? _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:32 _

 

_ I mean like neither of us have many friends  _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:34 _

 

_ jenna, you have like 3k followers. _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:35 _

 

_ followers, not friends. like I love my mutuals but yknow like. ya _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:37 _

 

That's news to Michael. As far as he knew, Jenna was one of the more popular students at Middle Borough. She's gotta have loads of friends, right?

 

_ huh.  _

_ and you wanna be friends with me of all people? _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:39 _

 

_ well, jeremy and brooke and jake and chloe all like you _

_ so why not? _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:40 _

 

_ I mean…. i guess? _

_ but just ftr I really hate gossip _

_ like you low-key ruined rich’s life. _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:43 _

 

_ ohh… _

_ well he bounced back! _

_ I mean he's dating the most popular guy in school soooo… I mean I wasn't wrong _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:45 _

 

_ you're not making a very good case for yourself, rolan. is there anything else u talk about or _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:47 _

 

_ ugh fine. _

_ uhhh what's ur favorite color? mines purple. _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:48 _

 

_ go ahead. take a guess _

_ it's red _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:49 _

 

_ cool cool _

_ uhhhhhhhhh _

_ what's your favorite movie?? _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:51 _

 

_ uhh idk the matrix is pretty good but jeremy refuses to watch it w me anymore so _

_ i never watch it _

_ wbu _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:54 _

 

_ the princess bride _

_ ive seen it like 20 times _

_ ive never seen the matrix tho????? _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:55 _

 

_ you've never seen the matrix? it's a classic, dude.  _

_ gay boy wonder • 12:57 _

 

_ ive heard of it at least!!  _

_ ya know _

_ if you die in the matrix you die in real life _

_ right???? _

_ jenna rollin’ • 12:58 _

 

_ yeah that's the matrix. _

_ idk if you'd like it _

_ do you like sci fi?  _

_ gay boy wonder • 01:00 _

 

_ i prefer fantasy tbh but like _

_ u know _

_ im flexible _

_!!! _

_ jenna rollin’ • 01:01 _

 

Michael deliberates on this for a second. It's one in the morning, not optimal for watching a movie for two and a half hours for pretty much anyone but him, and, to be honest, Jenna Rolan isn't his first choice for a movie buddy. On the other hand, it's been months- since August, maybe?- since he's seen his favorite movie, and the opportunity is right there. Plus, she doesn't even seem like she's all that bad if you cut through her bullshit. She just… needs to act a little less like a horrible drama goblin and more like a human being with likes and dislikes and thoughts and feelings.

 

_ we could watch it together if u want _

_ it's on Netflix _

_ so I could just set up a rabbit stream _

_ gay boy wonder • 01:03 _

 

_ it’s one in the morning what if we fall asleep _

_ but  _

_ yeah that’d be super fun!! _

_ jenna rollin’ • 01:04 _

 

Michael chuckles and rolls his eyes.  _ Little do you know, I have depression-fueled insomnia. Weak. You fool.  _

 

_ im planning on staying up for a few more hours anyway _

_ plus it’s super interesting so if you fall asleep youre dead to me _

_ gay boy wonder • 01:06 _

 

_ oh just for that michael im gonna fall asleep on purpose!!! _

_ jenna rollin’ • 01:07 _

 

_ yeah yeah _

_ just get in the stream _

[ _ http://rabb.it/fuckhands _ ](http://rabb.it/fuckhands)

_ gay boy wonder • 01:11 _

 

_ hell yeah _

_ jenna rollin’ • 01:12 _

 

_ hell yeah _

_ gay boy wonder • 01:13 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please watch the matrix it's lesbian culture and only one of my friends likes it!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael trains a new cashier at Menlo Park Mall's Pizza Hut.

The music streaming from Michael's headphones is jarringly upbeat as he trudges across the mall, looking flatly ahead. Normally he likes his job fairly well, but they've hired a new employee at the Pizza Hut he works at, and he's been appointed to show him the ropes. It's not as if Michael's  _ anti _ social, he likes people well enough, but he's certainly  _ a _ social- he's never really felt like a part of the team, so to speak, so it's hard for him to interact one-on-one with people in this sort of professional setting, if a subpar pizza place could be called that. Still, it's what he's gotta do, so he blasts Hall and Oates and heads toward certain doom (a.k.a. boredom and awkwardness.)

Michael normally gets to the mini-restaurant a bit before his shift starts and hangs out in the food court for a while, but he's running later than usual, so he ties his apron and heads into the small back area as soon as he gets there. After saying a brief hello to his manager, he leans against the wall and looks out at the sea of people. He keeps his eyes peeled for another black uniform as he scans the crowd, and eventually one comes up the escalator, attached to a short, stocky body. Michael squints.  _ No, it can't be.  _

“Yooo,” Rich says as he approaches the counter, giving a little wave to the cashier, another junior from their school who's about to end her shift. He leans to one side, peering back into the small kitchen, and his eyes widen. “Aw, hey, Michael Mell,” he calls, and Michael begrudgingly looks up.

“Hey,” he says, and gestures for Rich to come back into the kitchen. When Rich does so, Michael gives him a mostly-fake smile and says, “So you're the new recruit, huh.”

“Sure am,” Rich says, and puts his hands proudly on his hips. “Don't tell me you're the one who's gonna be mentoring me.”

Michael chuckles dryly. “Sure am,” he echoes.

“Well, hey, that's great!” Rich says, and slaps a hand on Michael's shoulder. “Gonna be good to finally get to know ya.”

Michael blinks in surprise, and in response, only manages, “Uh. You know you have to clean your hands when you go to the bathroom, right?”

“What? Of course I know that,” Rich huffs, offended. After a second, he lowers his voice and says, “Jeremy told you about that?”

“He also said you roll your hips when you piss.”

“That motherfucker.”

_ “Anyway,”  _ Michael says, “our shift starts in five, so how about I start teaching you a little?” It's not much of a question.

Rich shrugs and leans against the wall next to Michael. “Hit me.”

“Uh, well…” He should have prepared for this, but all of Michael's thoughts got scrambled when he found out he was supposed to be looking out for his bully of two years. “Well, have you ever worked a register before?”

“Not really,” Rich says. “My only other job was babysitting.”

“Good Lord,” Michael mutters, almost frightened at the thought. “Well, uh…  so basically, you select what meal the customer chose, put in the amount of cash they gave you, and it tells you what their change is automatically.”

Rich breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he says, “cuz I'm fuckin terrible at math. I mean, I practically skipped two years of it.”

_ Ah, right,  _ Michael thinks. Anyone equipped with a SQUIP would have absolutely no reason to listen in class, unless they really liked school… and if you really like school, that's probably the reason you need a SQUIP in the first place. “Well, don't worry about that, then,” he says. “And if they use a credit card, you don't have to do anything, pretty much. It's kinda straightforward, you just have to deal with the kinda people you see here.”

Rich's face contorts in concern. “What… what kind of people do you see here…?”

“I once had some chick who was high off her ass insist I was scamming her because I didn't give her her pizza,” Michael says. “She was holding the little plastic plate in her hand… I think she forgot she had two.”

Rich gives a loud, goofy laugh at that, and Michael can't help but snicker along with him. “Look, I dunno about you, Mell, but I've been to plenty of house parties. I think I can deal with a couple stoners.”

“Yeah, well, don't say I didn't warn you.” Michael shrugs and looks at his watch. “Oh, hey, your shift's about to start. You good to go?”

“I guess I gotta be, huh?” Rich says, and smiles. There's a small gap between his front teeth that Michael never noticed before. He… never smiled with his teeth since freshman year.

“Well, then, call me if you need anything,” Michael says, and retreats back into the small kitchen. 

The boys’ three hour shift goes fairly smoothly, to Michael's knowledge. Rich doesn't call him up to the counter, at any rate. At 9 P.M. on the dot, Michael takes off his apron, sighs wearily, and puts on his headphones, playing some mellower tunes now as he gets ready for the slow ride home. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, where d'you think you're going so quick?” Rich says, and smiles. “Come hang out. Everyone else is busy today, but I was gonna get some DQ anyway. Now I don't have to do it alone.”

“Oh,” Michael says eloquently. “I mean, I'm up for it.” Jeremy's told him time and time again that Rich is a good guy now, and that he's changed, but Michael's convinced that he's justified in his wariness. Still, he walks with Rich away from the Pizza Hut and across the food court to the Dairy Queen.

Rich certainly wasn't lying when he said he was going to let people see the real Richard Goranski. In between spoonfuls of his Blizzard- a medium Royal Reese's- he talks to Michael about  _ everything.  _ Video games, music, goofy kids’ cartoons he watches when nobody else is around to judge him… the whole time, with a slight lisp. It's almost surreal.

Time flies, and the clock ticks to 10 P.M., and, whoa, Michael's spent an hour just sitting and talking with Rich Goranski of all people. If he'd told his sophomore year self that, the little guy would have dropped dead. “Look, I gotta go,” Michael says, interrupting Rich in the middle of a sentence. He finds that he's almost regretful. Like it or not, Rich is a fun person to talk to.

“Aw, already?” Rich says, then looks at his watch. “Jeez, it  _ is _ late. I'll see you tomorrow, then, okay?”

“Yeah, man, I'll see you tomorrow,” Michael replies as he stands up. With one last glimpse at the pint-size bully, he starts for the food court’s exit, footsteps echoing on the linoleum.  _ Wait.  _ On sheer impulse, Michael turns on his heel and calls out, “What's your number?”

Immediately, Rich answers, “420-6969.” Michael's midway into typing it into his phone before he realizes and frowns at a laughing Rich. “Nah, jokes, it's 600-5389.”

“Gotcha,” Michael mumbles as he inputs Rich's number and saves the contact. “I'll text you sometime, okay? Tonight was kinda fun.” Every word coming out of his mouth is a new surprise, but the most shocking thing is that he finds that he means it.

And with that, there's only one last hurdle to jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to Menlo Park Mall and I really didn't feel like looking up exactly which restaurants are in it so u know. Suspension of disbelief or whatever.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael eats pizza and does homework, pretty much.

From the moment his history teacher pulls two slips of paper out of a hat and declares him and Christine partners, Michael knows it's going to be a rough two weeks. It's not that he has a problem with Christine, she's a really sweet girl and he appreciates that she makes Jeremy happy, but there's a knot that twists in his stomach as at the thought of being in close quarters with the girl he almost lost his best friend to. He shouldn't think of her that way, but he does, because he's a teenager and he's mixed up inside and he's kinda-sorta in love with his best friend. Just normal teenage boy problems.

Christine's house is small- too small for her huge family. It takes her a while to get everyone's attention and tell them to be quiet and give the two of them space, because they're going to be working hard on something and need lots of privacy. Michael leans back against the front door and hopes and prays that Christine's parents don't think what he thinks they're thinking. He swears on his life the girl does it on purpose with her innuendos.

Finally, the two of them barricade themselves in Christine's room- she shares it with her sister, but she's out shopping for clothes at the moment, Christine informs him- and Michael sits hesitantly down on the bed. Christine grabs her laptop from its safe home under her bed and sits down next to Michael. “So… any ideas?”

The assignment, which Michael is sort of convinced would be doable with only one person, is to create a trifold board advertising a place in the nearby city, complete with photos taken by the (un)lucky students. “I dunno,” Michael says, “I guess the mall?”

Christine shakes her head. “Nah… I talked to Jake about it; he and his partner are already doing that. Which sucks, cuz it's pretty much the only thing we've got.” She flops backward onto the bed and slaps her hands against the blankets rapidly as she thinks. “Ugh. I can't think of anything. What places are special to you?”

“...Well…” One place does come to Michael's mind, an abandoned building that used to house a Key Food, never reused after that particular store closed down. He and Jeremy used to go there all the time when they were younger, and they still go sometimes. Years before, they would climb onto the old counters and sneak in the back rooms, pretending they were explorers or army men, but now, it's pretty much just a place to smoke and talk about feelings and shit. Does he really want to take Christine there? “...Nowhere off the top of my head,” Michael answers.

“Hm,” Christine says simply. There's a stagnant silence in the air for a minute before she sits straight up in bed and grins. “Wait, Michael, I got it!”

Michael smiles back- it's contagious. “What?” he asks. “Where’re you thinking?”

“Okaaay, so.” Christine flaps her hands as she speaks, and Michael feels warmness settling in his chest; she's so much like Jeremy. “There's this restaurant out in the city where my parents took me after my first play audition. And now they take me there every time I audition for something new!”

“That's a great idea!” Michael says, and means it wholeheartedly. “Do you know the directions?”

Christine nods vigorously. “Yeah, like the back of my hand! Why, what? Did you want to go there today?” Christine's smile widens. “That's awesome! We could get dinner there! You like pizza, right?”

Michael snorts. “Hell,  _ yeah,  _ I like pizza.”

“Then let's go!”

 

Christine's favorite restaurant is, in a word, unimpressive. It's not that it looks bad, or even that the food is bad, because, as Michael discovers, it's pretty good… it's just that it doesn't look like favorite restaurant material in the slightest. “Interesting little place,” Michael says as the two of them sit and wait for their bill. He's pulled out his phone and is snapping pictures of the interior, taking the opportunity to work on their project instead of coming back a second time.

“Isn't it?” Christine chirps. “And see, I'm not even a huge fan of pizza, it's just, like, the memories, y’know? Like, it always makes me happy to think about, cuz I love auditions! Oh, but now there's another reason for it to make me happy!”

“Yeah? What's that?” Michael asks, cocking his head.

“Coming here with you, silly!” Christine says, and playfully slaps Michael on the arm. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

A fond smile graces Michael's features as he says, “Yeah, me too, Christine. ... Thanks for sharing this place with me.”

“Of course!” Christine replies, cheerful as ever. “I love it here; I'm always happy to go, especially with a friend.”

Michael chuckles. “A friend, huh?” He pauses, blinks. “Hey, Christine? After this, there's someplace I wanna show you.”

 

Christine treads lightly over the dusty floor, trying and failing to not get her sneakers dirty. “So this is your 'place’... it's a lot different from mine,” she notes. “I guess that's kinda obvious, but y'know. How'd you even find this? Isn't it illegal to be here? Well, except, Jeremy says you don't care about the law much…”

Michael laughs, runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I kinda consider them to be… strong suggestions.”

Christine giggles and pokes Michael's cheek, making him giggle along. “You're a real funny guy, Michael Mell.”

“I could say the same to you, Christine Canigula,” Michael says, and hops up on one of the counters, taking a seat on a long-nonfunctional conveyor belt. “This is a really great place, though, trust me. Perfect environment for deep talks.”

“Oh, any place is a perfect environment for deep talks if you try hard enough,” Christine says. “But I see what you mean.” She leans against the counter, hands clasped together behind her back.

Michael just nods. He’s quiet for a moment before he starts speaking again, taking in a deep breath of stale air. “Y’know, Christine, I didn’t really think we would… work out, as partners.”

He expects Christine to be hurt, but she takes it in surprising stride. “Yeah, I know,” she says softly. “Cuz of… all the stuff with Jeremy. I’d feel the same, too.” She looks over her shoulder at Michael. “But you don’t regret it, do you? I mean, we’re friends now, right, Michael?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are,” Michael says, and the words lift a thousand pounds of his chest. “Thank you… for everything. For being a friend, and a girlfriend, and… I dunno.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “Forget this ever happened, okay? I don’t really like talking about my feelings.”

Christine chuckles and turns back around. “Alright, I’ll forget it. But I’m glad we started talking, Michael. And thank you for taking me here… I know it means a lot to you.”

“Maybe all three of us can come here someday,” Michael says, and it’s a huge risk, and he  _ knows  _ it’s a huge risk, but with Christine, it’s probably alright. He already sorta loves her, in a friends kinda way, in a brother-sister kinda way, in a “you make my best friend the happiest guy on earth, so thank you for that” kinda way.

“I’d like that,” Christine says, and for the first time in a long, long while, Michael is content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you!!


End file.
